


and miles to go before I sleep

by SmonksTheMuse



Series: Bodhi Lives [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (but mostly fluff), (the angst is to make the fluff that much sweeter), Bodhi makes a new friend, Fluff and Angst, Gen, the rebellion is disability-friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmonksTheMuse/pseuds/SmonksTheMuse
Summary: Prompt from Pomrania on tumblr: 'Bodhi Lives' fic with the title 'and miles to go before I sleep.'Title from the poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.





	and miles to go before I sleep

The first time he had tried to walk after the battle of Scarif, he had been rather stupid about it.

Well, no. That was unkind to himself. He had just been… emotional, and over-eager, and anxious. And he had used poor judgement.

_ Very _ poor judgement.

He had decided he would walk on his own, without consulting any of the doctors overseeing his recovery. He had been sure he could do it, confident that, even newly-blind and far from fully recovered, he could manage a few steps around the room unaided.

He had been wrong, of course. He hadn’t even been able to stand up fully before he fell.

He had crashed to the floor, and pain had torn across the still-healing burns on his face. His cry of pain had brought two nurses running, and when they had gotten him back into bed and made sure he was alright they gave him the dressing-down of his life.

Then they sent an assistant in the hall to make him a cup of tea.

They sat with him, giving soft assurances that he would walk again, of course he would, he just needed to give himself more time. Things would never be the same, and neither would he, but he would learn to carry on in a new way.

As it happened, one of those ways ended up being Davith Alstor; the assistant who had made him tea.

Davith was truly wonderful, and Bodhi was grateful down to his bones to have met him. He had held him up with strong and gentle arms the next time he attempted tentative steps. He was never annoyed when Bodhi needed help with little things, and he celebrated the smallest of Bodhi’s achievements with genuine joy.

Davith had been blind for a time, before a surgical procedure had restored his vision almost completely; he still wore glasses - they were red and square and made him look scholarly, he said - to keep from straining his eyes. He had been injured as well, though he chose not to elaborate on it, and Bodhi didn’t press.

Davith had been able to see only light and dark, and blurry silhouettes, for two years. That was how long it had taken, he explained, for his family to save enough credits to pay for the procedure and not set themselves out on the street in doing it.

_ Was your family poor? _ Bodhi had asked.

_ Credits did not flow freely in my home,  _ Davith had replied.  _ But there were many who were less fortunate than we were. _

He had been blind from the age of fourteen to the age of sixteen; though he was now twenty-one, and had been visually abled since the surgery, he remembered the things he had learned while blind, and he happily gave Bodhi his knowledge.

One of these lessons - one which Bodhi struggled with to an unfortunate degree - was the lesson of rest.

_ I should build my strength back up, _ he would insist.  _ I can’t keep taking breaks every time I get a little tired. I have to push through. _

It didn’t matter if it was Bodhi’s doctor-approved light exercise, or his quest to remaster as many skills as were possible with his new disability; Davith was kind and understanding, and of course he never tried to force Bodhi to stop, but he always ended up getting Bodhi to rest anyway. His gentle persistence would win in the end. Bodhi was not short on time, he would say, and this process was not something to be rushed.

Davith Alstor was wise beyond his years, and Bodhi had the sense that his wisdom had roots in pain far greater than an injury to the eyes.

He wasn’t quite sure what made him think that; Davith was almost endlessly optimistic, and ‘cheerfully relaxed’ seemed to be his natural state of being. When he spoke, Bodhi could hear the smile in his voice, and it was always contagious.

But that didn’t mean that Davith’s past couldn’t have been painful. Sometimes the most broken people were the ones who helped others heal the most.

Right now, Davith was helping him heal in a way that was by now familiar to them both: convincing Bodhi to go to sleep instead of obsessing over his mental hall-map.

Bodhi’s mental hall-map was something he worked on at every opportunity; he had recently decided to memorize the route to and from his room and several places in the Rebellion’s headquarters. The mess hall, the briefing room, his counselor’s office, the hangar, every ‘fresher, every emergency exit, and Davith’s quarters.

It was a tall order, Bodhi knew, and he wouldn’t have much need of it. His cane would vibrate when it detected the sensors set up around the base’s hotspots, ‘freshers, and exits, and Davith’s request to put a sensor by the door to his own room had been immediately granted. Memorizing the layout of nearly the entire facility was far from necessary.

But Bodhi knew that a situation where he was without his cane was completely (terrifyingly) possible. He wanted to be prepared for such an event. He  _ needed _ to be.

Tonight he was particularly dedicated, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had been unable to help when earlier that day someone had asked him for directions to the nearest ‘fresher. Absolutely nothing at all.

Davith had been walking beside him for quite a while now; up and down the halls, back and forth and back again. They had been to the mess hall three times already. Every time Bodhi retraced his steps back to his quarters, Davith would suggest they finish up for the night and see how much Bodhi remembered tomorrow. Bodhi would insist on one or two more rounds, and Davith would sigh, fondly and dramatically, and follow him to their next destination.

As time wore on, though, Davith had become more and more reluctant to let Bodhi continue; he began to make appeals to Bodhi while they walked, asking him to promise that this time would be the last for the night. Bodhi never quite agreed, giving only noncommittal noises in response.

When they came to the east emergency exit for the fourth time, and Bodhi announced his intent to visit the south one again, Davith’s well of patience ran dry.

“Bodhi, this is ridiculous!” he said, exasperated. “It’s past midnight, and we’ve walked miles!”

“And I have miles more to go,” Bodhi answered, though he was truly exhausted. He turned to walk on, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“You can walk those miles tomorrow,” Davith said softly. “You’re tired. You need to sleep. Please go to bed, Bodhi. Please?”

When Bodhi got back to his room, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic and others can be found on my tumblr: vintage-smokestack.tumblr.com


End file.
